


Orange You Glad to See Me?

by pennyroads



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Farmer!Jughead, Farmer’s Market AU, Flower Girl!Betty, Fluff, terrible puns, the trash can is open for business
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 12:58:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17284499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennyroads/pseuds/pennyroads
Summary: “Are you an angel, by any chance? Do you frolic among the flowers during the week and then come here to grace us with your presence and the gift of caffeine?” - A Bughead Farmers’ Market AU.





	Orange You Glad to See Me?

**Author's Note:**

> This came about following a conversation with someone on tumblr about a gifset of Cole Sprouse looking like an Italian orange farmer.
> 
> This is not that AU, but it features Farmer!Jughead because... how could I not? 
> 
> Enjoy!

 

 

Betty Cooper was running late.

It was 7am on a Saturday morning - market day - and instead of adding the last decorative touches to her stall, ready to receive and delight patrons, she was hastily unloading flowers onto the trolley, precariously stacking them on top of each other so she wouldn't have to make two trips, thus wasting even more of her precious time.

The flowers, however, were not cooperating.

The orchid pots kept toppling over, dirt marring the scrolls of colorful crepe paper she used for her arrangements; the elegant pastel carnation and chrysanthemum bouquets she had slaved over the night before were getting squashed by large bunches of baby’s breath; and the tulips - red, pink, yellow and white, her pride and joy, were drooping dangerously over the side.

‘Speed is the enemy of perfection!’ a voice suspiciously similar to her mother’s sounded in her head.

Betty added the last of the succulents to the heaping pile of plants and tools, and with a silent prayer to whomever may be listening to pleasepleaseplease help her get the flowers to her stall in one piece, she set out into the market, carefully maneuvering her precious cargo through throngs of vendors and visitors.

The Riverdale Farmers’ Market was bustling with people and activity, despite the early hour.

Mr Keller, the baker, was artfully plating loaves of steaming, fragrant bread and gorgeously frosted dainty cakes, a delicious sensory overload that had sweet-toothed visitors salivating. Betty sighed mournfully, regretting the fact that she wouldn't have time to stop and purchase her usual Saturday treat; a flaky, buttery croissant that melted in your mouth and was pure, unadulterated carb heaven.

The McCoy girls (of McCoy Dairy fame) were helping their mother set up the soft cheeses display, Josie’s cursive handwriting looping elegantly on the chalk board, informing clients of the vast selection of products available. They waved at Betty as she walked by, eyeing her trolley warily.

Betty tightened her ponytail, wiped her sweaty brow and continued down the orderly row of booths and stands, waving hellos at colleagues and friends. Twenty Saturdays per year, five hours a day, they all worked alongside each other, come rain or shine, some selling painstakingly handcrafted items, others lovingly grown produce.

Her stand was just past Laura Pepperidge’s homemade bath & beauty products booth, right next to Mrs Waldorf’s home-canned goods stand. That was usually her reference point, since the old lady was always one of the first to arrive.

Betty was too preoccupied with making sure her plants stayed upright, so when she didn't see Mrs Waldorf’s bespectacled face, she walked right past her spot. It only took her a few moments to realize her mistake, and she doubled back, the flower trolley’s wheels groaning in protest.

Her stall was right where she had left it, waiting for her to set up shop for the day. What had confused her was that instead of Mrs Waldorf’s usual spread of jams and chutneys, the stand next to hers proudly displayed an impressive assortment of fresh produce, bright and colorful, immaculately presented in rustic wood crates.

A small sign advertised organic, locally sourced pints of plump, juicy strawberries, vibrant green heads of lettuce and long bunches of rhubarb, stalks neatly trimmed. The vast selection of spring fruit and vegetables was an enticing sight. A hand-written sign stuck to a basket of velvety, golden apricots read ‘Please do not press the fruit. It doesn't bite, but the farmer will.’

Betty tittered. She looked around for the vendor, but couldn't see anyone in the vicinity. The sign above the stall informed her that it belonged to the ‘Romaine Calm - Food Co-Op’

Whoever owned it certainly didn't shy away from a pun, she thought.

Betty busied herself with her flowers, depositing delicate bunches of lily of the valley next to a cheerful arrangement of hyacinths. She was especially proud of the brand new addition to her repertoire - a lovely selection of scented daffodils. She was sure those would sell well.

Betty loved spring flowers. A little wilder than their summer counterparts, they were also more resilient, used to harsher weather and tougher conditions. They bloomed bright and strong despite the cold morning frost and intermittent sunshine, and she loved them best because of it. Her little fighter buds, she called them.

She was getting her scissors and wrapping paper in order when a hand holding a strawberry entered her field of vision. It belonged to a tall, dark-headed stranger in a white tank top and suspenders, faded dark jeans and work boots. He was wearing a crown shaped beanie and smiling down at her, hand outstretched, waiting for her to take the piece of fruit.

“Hey there, neighbor.”

Betty smiled back automatically, powerless to stop herself from noticing his lean, strong frame and the way his eyes crinkled a little when he grinned.

Not that she didn't love dear old Mrs Waldorf, but if this was the new vendor, the view would certainly be an improvement.

“Hi. I'm Betty Cooper. Are you the new farmer?” Betty asked.

“Jughead Jones, pleased to meet you” Betty and Jughead shook hands. He looked over his shoulder at his stall. “Guilty as charged. I’ve been waiting for an opening for some time, and this week I finally got the call. Would you like to sample the merchandise?”

Betty nodded, taking the strawberry and biting down hungrily. She hadn't had time for breakfast, and the fruit was perfectly ripe, sweet and soft. She couldn't help the tiny moan that escaped her lips, or the slight blush that followed.

Betty really didn't want to make a fool of herself in front of the new guy, but he seemed to be enjoying the sight, chuckling lightly, his green eyes crinkling further. She catalogued the smattering of moles dotting his face, another quirk that added to his charm.

“It's delicious, thank you.”

Betty used her apron to discreetly wipe her hands clean, silently praying there wasn't any juice running down her chin. She was no shrinking violet, but there was something very disarming about his easy smile and open posture. He had perhaps caught her a bit off guard. When one thought ‘farmer’, this wasn't usually what came to mind.

“So have you bitten anyone yet?”

“Pardon?” Jughead’s brow knitted in confusion.

Betty pointed at the sign by the apricots. He followed her finger and his expression smoothed over when he realized what she meant. He snorted, hand coming up to rub his neck.

“Archie’s idea, I’m afraid.”

Jughead looked over to his right and caught sight of a redhead a couple of booths away, carrying crates of asparagus.

“Hey Arch, come here for a sec!” He hollered. The guy turned towards them and walked up to Betty’s stand. He was tall, but more built than Jughead. While the latter was all spindly arms and legs, noticeably defined but lithe and long, the former was all solid muscle, biceps straining against the fabric of his t-shirt, a bright red v-neck with a logo that read ‘Friend a Farmer. Eat Locally.’

“Betty Cooper, meet Archie Andrews, my business partner. I’m the brains, he's the brawn of the operation.” Archie smiled indulgently at him and extended a hand towards Betty.

“Nice to meet you. Lovely tulips.”

“Whoah! It's 2019, Andrews. You can't just talk to a lady about her tulips like that. Were you raised in a barn?”

Jughead’s teasing didn't seem to affect Archie, who gave Betty a look that said ‘do you see what I have to put up with?’

“Thanks” Betty said, amused by their exchange. “They’re my specialty. Please, take some when you leave. It'll be my housewarming gift to you, for your new stand.”

Jughead nodded in thanks, but Archie rewarded her with a blinding smile that lit up his entire face.

“Nice! Veronica will love them, thanks.”

So there was a Veronica in Archie’s life, but what about Jughead? Betty eyed him curiously. She hoped she wasn't being too obvious.

“I can't promise Hot Dog won't try to eat them, but I'm sure they’ll be the tastiest tulips he's ever had. Gourmet level, for sure.”

“Hot Dog?”

“My dog. If you can call him that. He's basically a furry devil. A menace to flowers everywhere.” His expression betrayed his words, obvious fondness showing through his tone.

Betty was captivated by him. He was easy to talk to and she wanted to pepper him with questions. It surprised her, because she wasn't usually so eager to get to know people. She was always unfailingly polite, her mother made sure of that, and she enjoyed being social, but making casual friends was an art form she hadn't totally mastered.

A couple in their forties approached her stand and she excused herself from the conversation, making sure to thank Jughead once again for the fruit. He nodded and turned back to his own booth, helping Archie with the crates.

The morning progressed quickly, her tulips selling out fast, as per usual, and the scented daffodils becoming a hit, as predicted. She even had orders placed for several bunches for the following week. All in all, it was a successful day for Cooper Flowers.

Midway through the morning, when there was a slight lull in service, Jughead leaned over the side of his stall, careful not to squash the cherry tomatoes, and called out her name.

“Betty! How do two flowers greet each other?”

Betty waited for him to drop the inevitable pun.

“‘Hey bud, how’s it growing?’” His self-indulgent smirk only added to the corniness of the joke, but Betty smiled in spite of herself.

“Hey Jones, what did the baby corn say to the mama corn?”

Jughead raised an eyebrow expectantly.

“‘Where’s popcorn?’”

He guffawed, nodding his head at her approvingly. It was ridiculous, but she felt a little proud. Terrible jokes aside, she enjoyed making him laugh.

Once the crowd started thinning, towards the end of the day, several vendors began packing up to leave, and Betty realized that she was down to her last two buckets of flowers. She made an executive decision to call it a day.

Once everything had been put away and all that was left for her to do was close down the stand, she grabbed the two bunches of tulips she had saved and walked over to the stall next to hers.

It looked as if they’d had a successful first run as well. The crates were all empty, save for a few lonely heads of broccoli and a small vine of roma tomatoes. She saw Jughead stacking boxes at the back and walked over to him. He smiled when he saw her coming.

“Your tulips.” She handed the flowers over to him. “It looks like you guys did pretty well!”

“Yeah, not bad for first timers, I suppose. Archie didn't even have to take off his shirt to boost our sales.”

Betty rewarded his quip with a hearty laugh. His statement sounded humble, but if the single strawberry she’d had was any indication of the quality of their products, she knew they didn't need any help selling their stuff. Case in point, the currently empty tables.

“That's a shame. I can't believe you deprived your customers of that experience.” Jughead’s smile faltered a little, and Betty wanted to take back her words. He recovered quickly.

“Thank you for the flowers. They’re really beautiful. Here, I have something for you as well.” He bent down and removed a jute tote bag from under the table. It was bursting at the seams with fruit and vegetables, a generous selection of celery and rhubarb, berries and potatoes.

“Thank you. You didn't have to do that.” She said, taking the bag from him.

“Nonsense. Besides, maybe you'll feel inclined to send some of your clients our way after you've tasted the rhubarb. Not to toot our own horn, but it's pretty life changing.”

“I'll take your word for it.” The market was fairly empty now, and the light outside was growing dimmer by the minute. She didn't want to keep him any longer, so she thanked him again and said her goodbyes, promising to give him an unbiased review of the veggies when she saw him the following week.

She rolled her empty trolley out to her car with a smile on her face. It had been a surprisingly good day.

 

 

 

The following Saturday saw Betty arriving at the Farmers’ Market at 6am sharp. Most people had only just started setting up and she took her time unloading her boxes and getting her flower displays ready. She was the first costumer of the day at the tiny café around the corner, purchasing three steaming cups of coffee to go.

Betty made her way back to her stand and saw Jughead and Archie sorting through crates of oranges and clementines. She smiled and uttered a friendly ‘good morning’.

“I brought you guys something.” She handed the coffee over to a sleepy looking Jughead and grateful Archie, who muttered quiet hellos of their own.

“Are you an angel, by any chance? Do you frolic among the flowers during the week and then come here to grace us with your presence and the gift of caffeine?” Jughead asked, sipping his coffee slowly, almost reverently.

Betty smiled and walked back to her stall, taking a pie out of a large carrier bag.

“Coffee AND baked goods? Marry me.” Jughead looked infinitely more awake, a dopey smile stretching his features. He looked cozy and warm in his Sherpa jacket and beanie. Betty wanted to hug him, a little, maybe.

“I used some of the rhubarb you gave me last week. You were right - life changing.” Jughead looked immensely pleased by her words. Archie looked between them, eyes dancing from her to him, a knowing smirk slowly settling on his face.

“Well, I never say no to pie. Let's have a taste!”

Betty grabbed plastic plates and utensils and began cutting up thick slices of the steaming pie. No one had to know she had gotten up at 4am to pop it in the oven so it would be nice and hot.

The boys tucked in with gusto, moaning appreciatively. Jughead assured her that this was the single greatest slice of pie he'd had in his life.

“That's saying a lot, coming from Jug. He's always eating.” Archie joked.

Betty felt a wave of contentment settle within her. She glowed under Jughead’s praise, and insisted that he have another slice.

Pie nearly finished, they resumed setting up their respective stands and waited for the first patrons to arrive. It was a cold, damp, late April morning, so the market wasn't very full. Betty ended up lost in conversation with Jughead for most of the morning, easy banter flowing between them.

Before long, it was time to pack things up. Betty could admit to herself that for the very first time, the prospect of going home for the day brought her little else besides crushing disappointment. She left knowing that she had something to look forward to, at least.

 

 

 

The Saturdays that followed were spent much the same way. Jughead made a habit of giving Betty a bag full of produce, and Betty made a habit of providing breakfast for him and Archie. It was a win-win situation, Jughead said. Meaning, a win for him, and a win for Archie. ‘I'm not above bribing you with groceries for the rest of our lives, if you promise to keep feeding me.’

It wasn't the first time he'd made a comment alluding to them spending more time together, and she felt rather hopeful that he'd make the first move and ask her out soon. But as the Saturdays wore on and he still hadn't mentioned anything of the sort, she started losing hope.

Finally, it was the last Saturday of the season, and although they had spent all their time at the market together, wrapped up in conversation - often helping each other out with sales and costumer queries - none of them had proposed that they take their friendship to the next level. Or to any level, really, Betty thought gloomily.

Things were winding down and the crowd was dispersing when Jughead leaned over the tomatoes in a practiced move and called out:

“Hey Betty! Did you hear about one flower who went on a date with another flower?”

Betty rolled her eyes, expecting the worst.

“It’s a budding romance!”

She snorted, used to his ridiculous jokes. He was beside her a moment later, a selection of vegetables creatively arranged into a bouquet, tied together with a burlap bow.

“I thought it would be kind of redundant to give the flower girl roses.” She took the bouquet, a smile lighting up her face. His eyes, bright and crinkled, looked nervous and hopeful.

“Will you go out with me, Betty Cooper?”

She laughed, teary-eyed and happy, and sprung up on her feet to plant a firm kiss on his lips. He wrapped his arms around her and deepened the kiss, a full-body sigh spreading from his head to his toes.

They separated after a moment, conscious of their surroundings. Both had dopey, happy grins on their faces, hands held tightly between them.

“So... that's a yes?” Jughead asked.

“Of course, Juggie” Betty replied with a fond eye roll. Her heart soared, happy and excited.

“Hey losers, I'm very happy that you finally pulled your shit together, but you're grossing out the customers. Get to work!” Archie joked from behind the counter.

They blushed, Jughead leveling Archie with a stare.

“To be continued,” he said, kissing the top of her head gently and going back to his stall.

Betty sighed happily. She couldn't wait to see how their story would blossom.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you thought (+ share some of your own terrible puns!) x 
> 
> Find me on tumblr @pennyroads


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